


Words Best Left Unsaid

by bdamanlover4ever



Series: Craig Wears Light Up Skechers [4]
Category: South Park
Genre: Craig is trying his best, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hugs, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, M/M, Misunderstandings, This Is STUPID, Tweek is scared n ready to fight, Use Your Words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23133199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bdamanlover4ever/pseuds/bdamanlover4ever
Summary: “I don’t even know what this means!” Tweek crushed the letter in his hand. “Is this code for kick your ass?” He punched the air. “I can't wait to get a load of this guy.”“They all have the same bad handwriting.” Nichole compared the letters.“It could be a stalker or a hit man. C.T. could stand for anything.” Butters clicked his tongue. “Or a combination of a stalker and a hit man.”“Gah! I never thought about that!” Tweek walked over to try and stand on his tippy-toes to peep over Nichole’s shoulders. The last two letters seemed more threatening than the last, but the line about “squeezing” and “numbing pain” made it sound like C.T. was ready to pound Tweek to a bloody pulp. “I try to keep to myself.”ORTweek starts finding letters in weird places and lets his imagination get the best of him. He learns about his (not so creepy) stalker.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak
Series: Craig Wears Light Up Skechers [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662745
Comments: 4
Kudos: 145





	Words Best Left Unsaid

“They’re nice, huh?” Craig pointed at his shoes.

“I guess they’re cool.” Tweek watched the light up colors flash with each step Craig took.

They were almost to his front door. He could see his mailbox number and the red flag up. The red flag was never really a good sign, it meant his father was sending out more urgent letters to the lawyer about the coffee shop.

“I used my birthday money to get them.”

“What...ngh…” Tweek inhaled. Okay, yeah real smooth. Slow down tongue. He felt Craig give his hand a squeeze as if an act of reassurance. He exhaled, “What makes them different from the others again?”

“They light up different colors.” Craig stopped at Tweek’s front door and stomped his feet. “See?”

“Ngh...” Tweek couldn’t really remember what color the other pair lit up. He pulled the keys out the side pocket of his backpack. “Thanks for walking me home, Craig.”

“No problem.” Craig pulled Tweek’s hand out of his pocket.

A breeze shifted through the trees and Tweek seemed to notice how cold it was for the first time. He wiggled his fingers, one hand he could barely feel, the other was still semi-warm. Craig’s pockets were insulated with a soft fuzzy material, then his hands encased Tweek’s for another blanket of protection from the chilly wind.

“Your hands feel weird.” Tweek picked at the sloppily covered cuts on his mottled skin. 

“It’s probably because of all the bandaids.” Craig turned to look at Tweek’s hand. The sticky residue tattooed Tweek’s skin in strange irregular colors. A marbled pattern danced up his arms threatening to spin around his neck. “How many did you put on?”

“Only...gah... where the coffee burned me.” Tweek twitched.

“Coffee doesn’t make scars.” Craig said, as if mad Tweek acted like all the scars were only from tiny pinprick cuts that hurt more than expected. “You sure you didn’t cut yourself?

“I can’t remember.” Tweek shook his head.

Craig stared at Tweek with a vacant expression.

The silence felt embarrassing, sometimes Craig would make him feel so stupid for little things. It would be easier if Craig actually showed some reaction, instead of just standing there. Tweek had a hard time knowing if he was annoying him with dumb questions or not.

“Same time, same place after school tomorrow?” Tweek asked. He liked holding hands in Craig’s pockets. They were just the right size for them to feel toasty. He shakily unlocked his front door.

“I guess.” Craig shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away. “You really should ask your parents for gloves and a coat.”

Oh. So it was like that? Tweek didn’t know if he should be offended or not. He closed the front door and dropped his backpack near the coat rack. He glanced at his mother vacuuming the living room, her hair done up in a sloppy bun and a weary smile rested on her face.

“Food is on the table. We’re having leftovers tonight.” His mom said.

That was all the confirmation Tweek needed to know his mom wasn’t in the mood for bullshit. He walked over to the kitchen table. French fries? Coffee? Just his luck.

“Your dad is still at the coffee shop. He sent me a text telling you to go over after you eat.”

“ _Telling you”_ not asking, “ _Can you?”_ It was a command set in stone.

“You can ride over there with me. I just came back home to finish cleaning.” His mom kept ramming the vacuum into the couch legs which meant she was probably looking at him instead of cleaning.

Tweek took a seat and noticed the pills.

They were arranged by the number of doses size, then by the elapsed time needed to take another one. One of them had the cap off the container: Proloftin. There were two pills beside his plate of cold fries.

The minute Tweek noticed it, he ignored it.

The minute he ignored it, his mom turned off the high-pitched whir of the vacuum.

“How was school, sweetie?” His mom asked.

“Fine.” Tweek crammed a handful of french fries in his mouth. Each chew made his mom look at him more crazy, as if he’d been swapped out with a busy hummingbird. He kept rocking in his seat, his foot tapping against the floor, as unnameable sounds came from his mouth.

“One of the pills were still there from this morning.” His mom said, pointing at the pill. “You what the doctor said about you forgetting your medicine.”

“I almost missed the...ngh...bus.”

“In order for drugs to be effective there must be consistency.”

That was code word for: Don’t make things difficult for us, after all we do for you. We don’t need child services banging on our door.

Tweek grabbed the pills, the shift of his wrist made a tiny folded up sheet of paper fall from his shirt sleeve. What the heck was that? He swallowed the pills down with his food, then reached for the paper and started to unfold it.

“You know we buy the pills because we don’t like to see you all jittery.” She turned back on the vacuum. “It’s for your sake, Tweek.”

It was strange, everyone in his family took pills. They took pills to stay up, pills to sleep, pills for stress, pills for anxiety. It was like the Tweak family motto: There is nothing pills and coffee can’t fix.

His mom was acting like she had downed at least ten pills today. She hummed the tune to some Beyoncé song and pushed the vacuum along the spotless carpet.

The paper unfolded to reveal handwriting. It looked sloppily written but he could barely make out the words:

_Dear Tweek,_

_Did you know, comets are sometimes called "dirty snowballs?" It’s because comets are about 50% ice and 50% rock. They’re supposedly one of the few unchanged things in the solar system. It’s a pity, nothing can grow on a comet. Any bud of life freezes until the cold eats away all hope for survival. Beauty can’t survive in such a toxic climate. I really enjoy this game we play. But a bad reputation can be contagious, and sometimes I feel like destroying it all. I get so mad. I want to rip up things and punch walls. Then, I see your green eyes. Now I fell for… If I could restart, I wouldn’t fake this._

_You. Me. After school. ~C.T._

Tweek felt his eye twitch. Was this an invitation to fight after school? Whoever this...C.T. person was, did Tweek piss them off that much? He didn’t think he had that many enemies. He was ten years old! How many people did he make want to rip up things and punch walls?

“Arghhh...Mom!” Tweek shouted. “I might be coming home late after school tomorrow.” There was no way he would just back down from a fight. Fuck C.T. he’d punch their head into a wall.

“Long as you’re still able to help out at the coffee shop.” His mom said as if she cared more about the coffee shop, not what Tweek was going to be doing after school.

* * *

“I can’t get over how the sky changes colors.” Tweek pressed his face against the window, imagining the sun’s rays on his skin like the heat radiating from his coffee thermos. His hands wrapped around the thermos, as the doors of the school bus opened letting in a cold draft as more kids added to the chattering on the school bus. 

“It’s because of the Sun’s angle through the Earth’s atmosphere. Light gets refracted like a prism.” Craig glanced up from his phone to view the sunrise painting a pretty display of yellow and orange. 

Tweek tightened his hold on his coffee cup. In the back of his mind he was picturing how’d he take out C.T….A mean left hook to the face, a cheap shot the ankles...it really depended how tall this person was. If C.T. was around Craig’s height only a good five or eight inches taller than him, he’d go for the ankles no hesitation.

The sunlight seemed to glitter over Tweek’s cheekbones to cover the horrid display below. “It’s nice to look at.” He smiled, showing off his coffee-stained teeth.

“Staring at the sun will make you go blind.” Craig said.

“Gah!” Tweek jerked back from the window and slammed his eyes shut. A loud bang echoed through his ear drums as his head throbbed. “I forgot about that!” His voice cracked as he opened his eyes to see Craig readjusting his blue hat.

“Calm down, Tweek.” Craig slumped against the uncomfortable bus seat. The brownish seat had stuffing falling out and some parts had been sealed up with brown duck tape. The tape had peeled a bit due to Tweek’s jumpy actions, sticking to his blue hat and clumps of black hair. “It won’t one shot blind you.”

“I’m sorry...ngh…” Tweek figured he must have accidentally bumped heads with Craig. He eased his nerves to a minimum, focusing his attention on fiddling his thumbs. “I think I remembered to take my medicine today. I think I did.” He tried to recall what happened today at breakfast, but his head started hurting again. His hands reached up to tug at his hair, willing the memory back. “I try to remember. I know how you don’t like it when I’m freaking or fucking out.”

“Then instead of pulling on your hair, pull on mine to get it off this stupid fucking duck tape.” Craig pointed to his matted up black hair. “Wait, did you spill coffee on your shirt?” He leaned forward to get a better view of the coffee stain as if it looked more deliberate.

“Another accident.” Tweek reached for Craig’s hair and pulled. “It’s that noticeable?”

Craig grunted, probably from the tension as Tweek ripped out a clump of his hair.

“Damn! You got Craig going bald already, Tweek!” Clyde laughed from across the aisle. 

All the kids on the bus cracked up, pointing and laughing, as if Clyde just made the best joke ever.

“My bad.” Tweek slouched over trying to will himself invisible by sinking into the already flat cushions. He took a sip of his coffee, the hot substance burned his taste buds and drowned out the pain of embarrassment.

“No problem.” Craig threw up his middle finger, to flip off all the laughing assholes. “Now people will be too busy spreading rumors about this to notice the stain.”

Tweek shyly sprinkled Craig’s ripped out hair stands back on his head. Craig knocked them off and re-positioned his hat to hide the bald spot.

“Shoe game might be clean but the line up isn’t.” Bebe applied a sugar scrub on her lips and puckered them. “Do better.”

Clyde seemed to laugh a little louder at Bebe’s comment. He wheezed and pointed at Craig’s sneakers. “Yeah! Who even wears skechers anymore?”

Tweek watched Craig clenched his hands into fists as the sound of his breathing seemed to grow harder.

The bus screeched to a stop in the school bus lane. Everyone stood up chatting and laughing among themselves as the doors opened. In all the commotion, Tweek lost sight of Craig.

Tweek tried to ignore any giggle that might be aimed at him and kept his head low. It was much easier to keep his head down at all times. He wasn’t good at hiding his emotions like Craig, but long as he kept his head down nobody could tell how he felt.

He turned the corner to his locker and flinched at the sight before him, Craig shoving Clyde between the lockers and the wall.

“Fucking kiss ass. You’re such a fucking kiss ass!” Craig hammered Clyde’s face against the lockers. “You think that shit is cute? Trying to impress Bebe.”

“Fuck off!” Clyde elbowed Craig to the side. An imprint of the locker number 245 was imprinted in his forehead. “I’ve been pursuing her forever.”

“You say that with every girl but still keep your status as free spirit.”

“Can’t you take a joke? You’re like my best bro. You know how important this is to me.”

“Friends aren’t supposed to bring down each other.” Craig yanked up Clyde by his shirt, as if ready to sock his face inwards. “Bro.”

“Jesus!” Tweek walked closer to his locker. “If you guys are going to argue, do it away from here.” 

Craig locked eyes with Tweek for a second. His rage moved through Tweek like a wave. He could feel his frustration and humiliation. He could almost see it written all over his face.

Tweek knelt down to reach his bottom locker. He struggled with unlocking the combination. His hands trembled making his fingers spin past the correct numbers. He heard Craig drop Clyde back on the ground.

“Stay away from me. Don’t sit with Token, Jimmy, and I at lunch.” Craig slung his backpack over his shoulders. “Go sit with your girlfriend, since you don’t do bros over hoes.” He shoved past him and headed down the hall. “Bro.”

“Dude, why are you such an asshole?” Clyde threw up his hands, his voice bounced off the lockers making a few kids peeked out the classrooms. He sighed and grabbed his own stuff from the floor.

Tweek tried his best to ignore Clyde’s awkward presence next to him. His unsteady fingers slipped past the correct number again, forcing him to spin the lock around rapidly and restart for the third time.

“How do you put up with him?” Clyde asked, hovering over Tweek. “Like what makes that attractive?”

“He’s not ngh...that bad.” Tweek turned the knob over a few spaces, trying to steady the number fifteenth. “Craig can be really nice when he wants to be.” Twenty-seven, Eighteen. “But most of the time he’s the neighborhood dick.”

“He gets so mad. Like damn... you knew it was a joke, right?” Clyde raised a brow.

Tweek whispered a slur of curses as the lock refused to open. He slammed a fist against his locker. “Clyde, man! I don’t care!”

“You’re even starting to sound like him.” Clyde turned away as if he had a right to be mad at all of this.

Tweek took another sip of coffee. Screw Clyde’s piss poor attitude. It would be nice if this stupid locker would open because first period was going to start in a few minutes. “Gah!” He frantically turned the lock and tried to pull it open. Did he really take his meds today? Why was he freaking shaky? “I can help Tweek.”

Tweek glanced up to see Nichole. The girl must have come out of her classroom after seeing him talk with Clyde. He scooted out the way and handed Nichole the paper with his combination on it.

“There you go.” Nichole opened the locker with ease. “I saw Craig over here. I thought he helped you.”

“He usually does but he’s...ngh...pissed about something that happened on the bus.” Tweek reached in his locker to pull out his science textbook. “When he’s mad he goes into his own zone.” The shifting of textbooks knocked a paper wedged in the vents of the locker.

It tumbled to the ground, unfolding to read:

_Dear Tweek,_

_A comet's tail points in the direction away from the sun. This is because the sun pushes gas away by pressure...and the comet can’t take all the pressure so it always flies away. Which is funny because everything lives off the sun, but a comet would much rather be safe in it’s own place in the Oort cloud. I keep it real because you don’t try to impress anybody. That’s what pisses me off, all the fakeness. If you didn’t see me, I’d flip. My heart starts to melt, all I see is red, it’s all because of you. Have a good day, live it up because it might be your last._

_Who wants to cuff you, that you gave all your trust to? Who cares enough?~ C.T._

Tweek took an uneasy breath. This was another threat? Telling him to have a good day because it might be his last. He should be telling, C.T. that he’d send anyone home in a coffin. Seriously, what was with this person? Flipping out and getting pissed off…Did he see this, C.T. person on a daily basis?

“Who wrote that?” Nichole must have read the note over his shoulder.

“I don’t...ngh...know!” Tweek shook his head. “This is the second letter and the part about cuffing me sounds scary as fuck!” He shoved the letter into the messy pile of books and folders in his bag.

“There’s another letter?” Nichole placed a hand on her hip.

“Unfortunately.” Tweek moved the door to his locker and another item tumbled out: a nicely wrapped cupcake.

The same handwriting scribbled on the wrapper:

_Won’t taste as good as the ones you make, but might go well with your coffee._

Tweek peeled back the plastic wrap to sniff the cupcake. The sweet scent of cake and coffee made his mouth water. (It was store bought, obviously.)

“It must be someone who knows you.” Nichole motioned to the cupcake. “They brought you breakfast.”

“They’re trying to poison me!” Tweek crushed the cupcake, icing fell from his fingertips as crumbs leaked from his hand. This CT person definitely knew him, how else would they know about the coffee?

“I don’t think someone who wanted to hurt you would spend ten dollars at Walmart for a cupcake.” Nichole said. “They’d buy it from Dollar Tree.”

“Gah!” Tweek felt his heart almost leap out his chest. “How’d they get into my locker to put this here?” He waved the crushed treat around in his hand. “Do they know my locker combination? What if they know where I live?”

“It's easy to break into a locker. This one little thing doesn’t mean—” Nichole’s concerned voice could barely be heard over the late bell ringing.

“There’s more than this! I’ll explain at recess.” Tweek slumped his shoulders, it felt like fear was controlling him like a marionette doll. His expression hardened as the strings of his heart pulled his fingers to drum an unsteady beat against his textbook. “If I’m not dead by 12pm.”

* * *

Everyday Tweek wished his life wasn’t so stressful. It seemed like the higher he swung the closer he got to the clouds, the closer he got to stress relief. He hoped the pills would kick in. Any time would be great, preferably before his fight with C.T. He swung back and forth on the swing, waiting for Nichole to show up.

From the top, he could see everyone: the kindergartens in the sand box, a few third graders playing kickball. He even noticed Craig, Token, and Clyde playing tag which meant that their friendship was fixed or whatever. Life was good, looking down on everyone, up in the sky nothing could hurt...well actually a bird could smack his face at any second.

He stopped pumping his legs, allowing his body to slow down the swings momentum.

“Did you bring the creepy letters?” Nichole leaned against the swing’s post.

“Yeah.” Tweek pulled the crumpled up papers from his pocket; handed them over to her.

“Is it true, you have a stalker?” Butters was on the swing right beside him. He swung higher than Tweek, by keeping up a constant speed.

“Gah! Who told you that?” Tweek almost flipped out the swing. He never once used that term, ‘stalker.’ He hoped that he didn’t have one.

“No one, that's just what it sounds like.”

“I thought it was just some mad person who wanted to fight after school.”

“How do you explain them watching you?”

“What?”

Butters pointed at a paper buried in wood chips. Tweek did a small jump off the swing to land his feet on the sheet of notebook paper poking out the ground.

“Did you put this here?” Tweek pulled out the paper, knocking the dirt off it to read the scribbled print. “Because if this is some joke by Cartman tell him this shit isn’t...ngh...funny.”

“I just saw it, after Craig ran around here to escape being tagged by Token. It’s like someone put it here on purpose.” Butters said.

Tweek finished dusting off the letter and read it aloud:

_Dear Tweek,_

_Comets fly far due to their gravitational interactions with other planets, specifically the big ones like Jupiter and Saturn. But weirdly they always fall victim to looping back around in the same eccentric orbit. No matter how long the time period, they always circle back around the sun they want to escape. It takes nothing to wave and say hi, but sometimes when I see you I want to do more than walk by. I want to pick you up and squeeze you. I want to warm your trembling hands and rub every band-aid until the pain numbs and you can feel again. I watch you every day._

_You’re my entertainment, a form of tranquility. A snowball hitting me for being indecisive about who I’m trying to be. ~C.T._

“I don’t even know what this means!” Tweek crushed the letter in his hand. “Is this code for kick your ass?” He punched the air. “I can't wait to get a load of this guy.”

“They all have the same bad handwriting.” Nichole compared the letters.

“It could be a stalker or a hit man. C.T. could stand for anything.” Butters clicked his tongue. “Or a combination of a stalker and a hit man.”

“Gah! I never thought about that!” Tweek walked over to try and stand on his tippy-toes to peep over Nichole’s shoulders. The last two letters seemed more threatening than the last, but the line about “ _squeezing_ ” and “ _numbing pain_ ” made it sound like C.T. was ready to pound Tweek to a bloody pulp. “I try to keep to myself.”

“What about the dictator?”

“Oh Jesus!”

“What about the underpants gnomes?”

“Butters.” Nichole gave Butters a harsh glance as if warning, to stop scaring Tweek.

“I don’t think I can...ngh...beat all of them up at once.” Tweek couldn’t stop shaking. Damn it. Work pills. Work! He grabbed Nichole’s arm to steady himself, digging his nails into her jacket. “What am I gonna do? I’ll need back up!” He shook Nichole back and forth.

“Okay, Tweek. Deep breaths.” Nichole tugged her arm, trying to pry Tweek off her. “Let go and think logically.” She yanked away, then turned to a window to check her hair. “If you haven’t done anything recently to piss anyone off you should be fine.”

“But they watch me.” Tweek couldn’t understand why nobody else was losing their shit over this. “Gah! It’s some kind of sick game to them. They love tormenting me! They’re probably laughing themselves silly right now! Can’t you see this fuckery?”

“I am a hall monitor. I can always let you borrow the glock.” Butters said.

“No.” Nichole rubbed her temples. “Tweek is the ideal person to never give a gun. He might somebody or even worst hurt himself.” She turned to Tweek, offering a friendly smile and relaxing words of wisdom. “Plus, the letters don’t really seem that menacing. It’s more so the context.”

Bright colors blinded Tweek’s vision, as an arm came around his shoulder. It was almost like a half-way hug as a little squeeze was given.

“Now that you’re off the swingset, you tryin’ to play tag?” Craig sounded extremely close for a few seconds. 

Tweek felt his head land on the crook of Craig’s neck. He tensed up for a minute, taking in the strange surprise embrace. A part of him wondered what was the funny feeling in his gut; the other part thought he might be getting mugged.

“My bad.” Craig said, as if his heart increased in speed at the assumption a mistake was made. “I saw you and acted. I got carried away.” He let go of Tweek, taking a few steps back. “I’m sorry. I—”

“It’s okay.” Tweek hated how that was his programmed response. It wasn’t really okay. He didn’t have a problem with hugs, but people coming out of the blue and throwing hands, scared the fuck out of him. He liked it better when Craig asked a head of time.

“You sound paranoid.” Craig spoke like he knew how scattered Tweek’s brain was.

Tweek wasn’t sure how, but Craig knew. He timidly reached for Craig’s blue jacket and pulled on the sleeve, wanting for Craig to come closer again. There were about two and a half steps of distance between them now, which came to about four seconds of Craig’s sneakers colorful light show.

“I took the pills. I know, I did and everything still hurts.” Tweek spoke just above a whisper to make sure only Craig heard. He didn’t want everyone to know he was taking drugs. He’d never hear the end of being called crazy.

Craig strolled over to the school building. He played it off non-chantley, nudging Tweek in his side for him to follow along. Tweek followed heel to toe, staring at the pretty lights.

“We’re playing the most simple game in the world, tag.” Craig said with a lazy sort of drawl. He pointed at Token. “He’s it. That means we run from him. It’s a real life form of running from all your problems.”

“But I’m not paranoid. I can’t be. Anyone could be stalking me! Everyone is always talking about me or laughing behind my back.” Tweek couldn’t stop himself from trembling. He didn’t know why he was on edge, or why he felt attacked, it was so unnecessary for any comment to be made.

If Craig was concerned, he didn’t show it. He lowered his hand, tilted his head to the side, and gazed at Tweek. “Stalking is a weird way to look at the game of tag, but sure. If I was it, you’d run from me. It accomplishes nothing, but beating up time for fun.”

That was a weird analogy to use, “ _beating up time.”_ Tweek turned to Nichole for support, only to see her and Butters talking about something. Crap. Should he tell Craig about the letters? He opened his mouth to say something, but Token slapped his back.

“Tag, you’re it!” Token shouted.

“No fair!” Tweek reached out and Token jerked back.

“No tag backs!” Token took off towards the sandbox.

Tweek spun around to see Craig, darting off in the other direction. He guessed, he was playing tag now.

* * *

The pills weren’t working and Tweek was out of time. He knew he should have knocked up the dosage by taking a few more, but fear of overdose always guided his hand back to one tablet every eight hours. He wondered if he looked as crazy as he did back home. If he was acting like a hummingbird again: twitching on the floor of the boy's bathroom, beside a puddle of pee, near the urinals.

He kept reaching for his phone and checking time, only two more minutes till the end of the school day. He wondered about his stalker: if they were out there, what they looked like, and why they wanted to hurt him. What if tag was the last game he’d ever play? He looked at the stalls, covered in symbols and curse words. A part of him was tempted to ink in his last words.

What would he even say?

If C.T. was some underpants gnome government agent from North Korea, Tweek would be fucked.

He slung his backpack over his shoulders. What if he blinked and the stalker jumped him from behind? His eyes darted back and forth to see if anyone was watching as he inched out of the bathroom.

Each step made his breathing get faster as his heart beat increased in time with his shaking figure. God. What if he...? His vision started to get blurry, so he used his hands to feel along the wall. Everything he touched was cold. Was he cold? Wait—now his hands were warm. Did he just get pee on his hands?

He stepped out of the bathroom and struggled to view the hall. There wasn’t a creature in sight, not even those fat water bugs scurrying across the dusty floor. He could make a clean escape, leave the school, maybe burn down his house and convince his parents to move to the exact center of the woods.

The clock on the wall signaled he was out of luck as the dismissal bell rang and students flooded the hallway. People pushed past him. Weird smells filled his nose. Pointless chatter rattled his eardrums.

It wasn’t safe here. Anyone could be the stalker. Heck, they could have hacked the school security cameras and be watching him right now.

He rubbed his eyes and spotted Craig, Token, Clyde, and Jimmy walking down the main hall.

“Craig!” Tweek shouted at the top of his lungs.

Craig shut his mouth as his feet stopped moving. He nodded his head as if to signal for his friends to go on without him.

Tweek ran up to Craig. He pulled the letters from his bag and waved them around frantically.

“I wasn’t going to leave you.” Craig motioned to his friends. “I was chatting with the guys about our science project. I was going to wait at our regular spot after school.” He paused as if to scan Tweek’s paranoid expression. “That’s not what’s wrong is it?”

“Listen, this might sound...ngh...crazy.” Tweek held up the sheets of paper in his hand. “The government is after me! They leave these letters with a signed name, C.T.” His panicked breath hitched, “I think it means, Cut Throat.”

“Tweek,” Craig snatched the papers up. “Why would the government be after you?”

“The cupcakes...Gah! The underpants gnomes…” Tweek pulled on his strands of blond hair. “It’s all coming together! They want me dead!”

“C.T.” Craig read aloud the scribble at the bottom. “Whose name has those initials that you know?” He waved the paper around, almost like a white flag of surrender.

Tweek chewed on his bottom lip.

“Don’t you know somebody who writes like this?”

“Ngh?” Tweek narrowed his eyes at the paper, then looked at Craig. There were papers spilling out his backpack, scribbled on sheets reading: _There’s no part of me that doesn’t enjoy being with you. You’re like my dirty snowball._ His heart skipped a few beats as a comfortable silence came over them. He loosened the hold on his hair. “Craig, you were just trying to make my world a little brighter.”

“Fuck yeah,” Craig stomped on the ground with his skechers light up shoes. “In more ways than one.” The bright colors illuminated Tweek’s face as it reddened with embarrassment. He brought their hands together. “I never meant to scare you, Honey. I thought you’d like a few nice surprises. I even spent my entire allowance on that coffee flavored cupcake.”

“Oh ngh...Jesus! You probably think I’m stupid.” Tweek tucked his head down, unable to take Craig staring at him like he just beamed down from space.

“We’re both stupid. I should have been more straightforward.” Craig turned away from viewing their interlocked hands. “But there’s a lot of things I can write about you that I’d never say out loud.”

“Heh,” Tweek felt a smile grow on his face. “I like that side of you.” He anxiously rubbed his thumb up and down Craig’s hand.

“Good, you’re the only one who gets to enjoy it.” Craig paused, “Well… You didn’t show anyone else the letters, right?”

Their eyes met for a brief second; Tweek trembled at Craig’s stoic expression. 

“A...gah... tiny selective few people.” Tweek rocked on his tippy-toes to try and match Craig’s height. “I won’t do it again.” His eyes wandered back to the blue backpack. “Can I read the last letter?”

“I don’t care.” Craig tilted his backpack to pull out the paper. “Just do it at home.”

“Can I text you about it?” Tweek took the crumpled up paper. “Afterwards, I mean.” He neatly folded the sheet up to place in his pocket.

“I’d rather you not.” Craig stepped forward as if ready to drop the discussion. He pushed open the doors to exit the school. “Too much second hand embarrassment.”

“Oh..ngh..okay.” Tweek walked out by Craig’s side. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, now that he knew the letters were actually written with love. It made a fuzzy feeling form in his gut and electricity seemed to dance up his arm at the touch of Craig’s hand. 

All the uneasiness faded into joy, and Tweek was sure that even if he couldn’t completely read Craig’s vacant expressions, the emotions in his words were all there. Besides, real romance was just being stupid together. Craig was that one person Tweek could be stupid with.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't mind the series tag, there is no order. (Oh no, I'm predictably posting on Friday 13th a totally funny not scary story! :)))) I would say have a good day, but instead Imma say, y'all better wash your hands ya dirty fucking gremlins. And if you breathe you're fucked so... Be healthy: stay inside, watch Hulu/Netflix, and play video games n read fanfics.~Mel


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